


Ephemeral

by TheWaitingFangirl



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, F/M, I'm so sorry, Reader Death, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4826066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWaitingFangirl/pseuds/TheWaitingFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are an Italian assassin, the first one recruited by Ezio on his mission against the Borgia — and perhaps something more? — , to protect your city. After a minor misunderstanding, you two have a fight over a mission, which you leave to accomplish alone.</p><p>But all things are ephemeral, aren't they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ephemeral

**Author's Note:**

> I was having some trouble with the requests, so me and Winters started talking about angst to inspire me. Yes, we are sick like that. And then, she talked about death of the assassins and it scalated until I had an idea to write this piece of heartbreak for you. I had a block writing this, so my writing isn’t THAT good at this one… — Idk if it’s even good. And I hope you guys like it, because my internet was bad and I had to ask mom about the symptoms of blood loss. She thinks that I’m weird now.
> 
> http://brohood-assassins-imagines.tumblr.com

You cracked your eyes open, the light of the early morning in Roma waking you up. Stretching yourself, you shuffled in bed to a still sleeping Ezio; his features soft and peaceful, mouth ajar in his sleep. His warm hand laid lazily over your hip, your knees still tangled. As the morning sun caressed your back, you leaned closer to him, fingertips caressing his cheek affectionately, brushing it as if afraid of waking him so suddenly — and indeed, you were. The man didn’t move as he breath in more deeply, making you smile. Well, he really was a big lazy cat stretching below the sun under your touches, as you referred to him once. 

Your fingers went on with the exploration, thumb slowly tracing the scarred lip, going ahead and caressing the outline of his full lower lip in a loving way. Ezio hummed, leaning into your touch as a little satisfied smile appeared on his lips, body coming closer to yours as he rewrapped his arm around your hips; sighing at the contentment of finding your body in his still sleeping mind. You smiled at Ezio’s reaction, as he hugged you tighter and rested his chin at the top of your head. 

“ _Amore mio_ …” you mumbled, voice still wobbly from sleep. No response. You smiled lazily, free hand circling his side and scratching from between his shoulder blades to the middle of his back. He hummed again at your ministrations, arching in a deliberately slow motion. 

“Y/N…” Ezio muttered in a rough sleepy voice. “It’s still early, _bella_ …" 

"Ezio.” You called him again, more insistently. “The mission…” the man sighed above you, rolling on the bed to lay back. 

"What about it?“ He mumbled, sleepily dropping his arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight. "I told you already, it’s too dangerous" 

" _Bullshit_. It’s a meeting of the Borgia guards. It’s not a difficult task to stalk guards.” You replied in a monotonous voice, as if repeating yourself — and indeed, you were. “And you know it. Don’t lie to yourself.” You two had this same conversation the night before, when a thief came in with the information about a secret meeting of the captains of the Borgia army at the Old District. Ezio wouldn’t let you do it, justifying it with stories of someone among the Assassins giving off informations and setting traps for the trainees. 

 "It is true, amore. But…" Ezio sighed. “It’s too dangerous. The old district is ruled by the _Cento Occhi_ , I can’t let you—”

“ _Oh?_ ” You sneered. Of course. “You think that I can’t take care of myself? Defend myself from simple thiefs, Ezio?” You chuckled mockingly, getting up and going after your gears. The room was starting to get hot and you felt sweat accumulating at your back as you went through it, making the shirt stick unpleasantly against it. Very against your will, you put the Assassin robe, strapping it tightly on your body. 

“Y/N…” Ezio called again, breaking the silence. He shuffled at the bed, laying on his side — you had to admit, it demanded a great deal of willpower to not give up on the mission and just go back to bed. “You know very well that I trust in your abilities. You can do it, it’s just…” He paused for a while, seizing his words. “I don’t want you to." 

You breathed in indignantly. "Why the _hell_ not?!” You snapped at him. “I was born in _Roma_! I know every street and every corner of it, way better than you! There is no one better than me to this mission!" 

 "It is an unnecessary risk! I’m not sending anyone on it” Ezio hissed back at you. “Besides, we already have enough information!" 

"More information is never bad, you know!” You retorted pacing around the bedroom, going straight to the door. 

“You _won’t_ go.” He stated, making you narrow your eyes at his words. 

"Are you sure?“ You growled, opening the door roughly in defiance. 

"This is an _order_ , Y/N!” Ezio roared, sitting up hurriedly, his brows knitted together in annoyance. 

“You don’t own me, Ezio!” You snapped back at him before shutting the door behind you way more hard than you firstly intended to and stormed down the hallway; under the curious looks of the recruits. 

Oh, he will _see_. You would come back with valuable information about the Borgias, shine through the halls of the Assassin Hideout; making sure to rub it all in Ezio’s face. 

Or, at least, that’s what you thought. 

 

* * *

 

You hugged your stomach tightly with only one arm, the burning pain unbearable at this point and watched carefully your red stained hand. You already lost too much blood and there was no doctor or help near. Stumbling your way through the crumbling buildings of the Old District, you tried your best to keep your mind and body in activity and to get away from the corpses of the guards sprawled behind you. 

 The whole meeting had been an ambush. 

As soon as you got there — as quietly as a mouse, mind you —, the men drew their swords, signaling for the other hiding guards to come closer. It was a fight of one against a few more than a dozen; and yet your rank wasn’t enough. Near the end of the fight, you were stabbed at your side two or three times before you could turn around and gash the man’s neck open with the hidden blade. 

“Cazzo…” You muttered, pressing your aching body against a half crumbled wall big enough to cover you, after dragging yourself through a few corners and alleys. You were going to die in a fucking alley. Alone. Very different from the glory that you were preparing yourself for. 

“Fucking traitors…” You breathed out weakly, ripping a piece of cloth from your robes. Your torso burned insistently, more blood seeping out relentlessly each time you moved. You sighed, trying to steady your breathing and listened. There wasn’t much noise around you, except for the breeze and an occasional chirp of a bird. 

And, of course, the sound of hurried footsteps nearby. 

“ _Merda_ ” You hissed in pain, closing your eyes. Of course. You killed a dozen of guards, of course they were after you. How fucking stupid. 

“ _Y/N?!_ ” Ezio’s voice shouted in distress. “Where are you?!" 

Ezio. 

 _Ezio_. 

He had come for  _you_. 

Your eyes teared up and you choked a sob back, lifting your chin as your free hand clenched the bit of cloth there. "I’m here.” Your voice wailed out and seconds later Ezio appeared, his face a perfect mask of agony. 

“ _Dio mio, bella_.” He stuttered, kneeling in front of you. “La Volpe came right after you left, he talked about an… ambush. A fake mission.” The assassin gulped, checking your bloodied wound with trembling hands. “Cazzo…” He lifted his gaze to you, golden brown eyes boring over you in a silent question. 

“Dagger.” You whispered, clenching teeth and hissing as he pulled the once white robes again. Ezio’s eyes flicked over to yours, then back to the wound. He pressed his lips together. “That bad?" 

The assassin smiled humorlessly. "Merely a scratch,  _mio tesoro_.” He breathed out, the smile quickly fading and looked around rather thoughtfully. “Can you walk?" 

You smiled weakly. "No. I’m too dizzy.” You bit your lower lip as the man took the rag from your hand, seizing it before wrapping the cloth around your torso rather carefree. You hissed in pain, throwing your head back at the pressure over the bloodied wound. “Fuck…" 

"Up you go.” The man forced a smile to you. “We have to get you to the principal street. Help is coming. We can’t waste time now.” Ezio tried to pass your numbed arm over his neck, making you grunt. 

“Ezio…” You whined. 

“Please, Y/N.” The man pleaded. “Get up.” Ezio tugged at you again.

You couldn’t. Your feet felt numb and your head ached, making the world around you rock back and forth, spinning in a confusion of colors and blurs. “I’m sorry…” You managed to mumble out making Ezio still beside you. “I shoud’ve listened to you.”

“No.” He replied. 

Silence.

“Ezio, please…” You called him in a soft voice. “I was wrong.”

“Please, don’t do this to me.” The assassin appeared again in your sight, kneeling beside your tired body. “You’ll get better. We won’t have to discuss this, I promise.” He muttered, cupping your face. “Just… don’t do this.”

“ _Tesoro_ …” You smiled comprehensively at him. You wanted to agree with him, sass back and joke about the whole situation. You wanted to believe him. But you couldn’t. You knew. Both of you knew, actually — only Ezio refused to accept it. “I’m tired…” You sighed, forcing your hand to reach his in a slow movement and closed your eyes.

“No. Don’t close your eyes.” He spoke warily. “Hold on a bit more. I’ll find a way, just hold on, ok? Please.” The wound had stopped hurting by now, it’s sensation remaining a distant and insistent burn at the side of your body, as if someone had scratched your skin with a thousand needles for hours. 

You frowned, pouting a bit. You were cold. Your hands felt numb, as well as your feet. And you were tired. Why couldn’t he just let you sleep for a while? You didn’t answer him, but forced you eyes open, your vision now peppered with little black spots. “Uuuugh…” you groaned closing your eyes tightly once again, pushing the crown of your head against the crumbling wall.

Ezio licked his lip anxiously, trying to think of something —  _anything!_  — to catch your attention. “Ok, Y/N. Are you listening to me?” He whispered in a soft voice. You nodded with a coy smile. “Good.” He smiled back at you, cupping your face. “Now focus on that for now and do as I say.”

“… ‘Right.” You mumbled back at him.

“I need you to open your eyes and look at me.” His thumbs caressed your cheekbones in an affectionate motion. You did as he said. “Tell me,  _amore_. What is the color of my eyes?” You frowned at the question.

Firstly because you couldn’t see his face. All that was there was a blurr of beige, brown, white and dirty red — of the brick wall behind him. Secondly because you had to think about it — because you didn’t know. Worse: you couldn’t  _remember_. “Just let me rest for a bit…” You whispered weakly, lowering your unfocused gaze.

The assassin frowned his lips in a worried motion, breathing in erratically through his mouth. “ _Bella mia_ …” Ezio sighed, a trembled and sad huff, thumbs still rubbing your now pale cheekboones.

“Look at me for a bit, yeah?” He bit his lower lip. “I promise you I’ll let you rest later, tesoro mio…” You smiled weakly at his words, eyes cracking open just a little bit, even though you could only make out the faint outlines of his frame and the ambient around you. You heard someone shouting Ezio’s name and yours, just a mere background noise in the early morning in Roma.

“Ah, yes…” You mumbled dreamily, a silly smile appearing on your face.

Ezio agitated himself, yelling something back, which made you frown unpleasantly.

 _Noise_.

Noise was  _bad_.

Noise on such a  _beautiful day_ …

You sighed, closing your eyes again. Perhaps it was time to rest, no? It was late already. Ezio looked at you with glassy eyes, the tears gathering there threatening to fall down any second. You let out a soft breath, pressing your face against his hand and, rubbing your cheek affectionately against it and you felt something wet and warm. What was it? You frowned, trying to remember the right word…  _Tears_! Of course, your eyes were burning. You were crying, how couldn’t you realize that. And then, you giggled humorlessly.

The assassin looked around once more, waiting for someone to appear.

Perhaps Giacomo, a promissor apprentice. His father owned a medical shop, one that Ezio helped to rebuild as part of his mission to renovate Roma. The boy was good with medical procedures, you reminded yourself with a smile. He had helped you to stitch Ezio’s back after an arrow hit him when he came back from a mission.

 _Funny_ … You couldn’t remember Giacomo’s face now.

And Ezio’s hand suddenly appeared holding yours, you mused. Or perhaps it was there for quite a while, you couldn’t say. He squeezed it gently, leaning over to kiss your cheek. His beard tickled and his lips were soft, as soft as you could remember, which wasn’t much. He breathed out, lips still pressed affectionately against your cheeck, as some tears slipped off. “God, I love you so much…” he mumbled to himself.

You remembered the first time he told you this. It was late at night, after you two spent the early hours of the morning talking about nothing and everything in the principal hall of the hideout; while everyone else slept. It was dark and you couldn’t see very well, the fireplace being the only source of light, but you remember that he was nervous. Perhaps afraid. And that you kissed him afterwards.

And that was it.

All your memories were fading like this. Ezio shaked you a bit. “They’re coming,  _tesoro_. Stay awake.” He muttered against your skin, proceeding to press his nose against your temple, breathing your scent in — it now being speckled by fresh blood.

“Hm…” You hummed back. He brushed the hair away from your face with a trembling hand, breathing equally unsteady. 

And that was the last thing you could register before the world went black.


End file.
